Save the OC
by NittanyLizard
Summary: She’s beautiful.  She’s tragic.  She’s perfect.  And you have eight chapters to turn her into somebody that I don’t want to vanquish from the face of the earth.
1. Chapter 1

**The Summary: **She's beautiful. She's tragic. She's perfect. And you have eight chapters to turn her into somebody that I don't want to vanquish from the face of the earth.

**The Criteria: **By the time we reach Chapter 8, I want a compelling (or at least interesting) first chapter that contains an original character I like, and some inkling of a plot. Remember – _anything_ about the chapter and/or character is up for grabs when it comes to editing, except complete annihilation, because, well, the presence of a non-story goes against the criteria (and creates a rift in the space-time continuum).

**The Rules**:

1. You tell me what to fix, and that is exactly (and only) what I will fix. Be as specific as you wish, or as vague as you like. **Hint**: For the first round, think about starting with the basics.

2. No more than **one correction** per review, and please take note if somebody else has already suggested the correction you have in mind.

3. Where feasible, suggestions may be general corrections that apply to the entire chapter rather than to each individual occurrence of the infraction. One or two examples are all I need.

4. My dog will select two to four corrections per round (we want everyone to be able to follow the changes from one round to the next (don't ask me, it was the dog's idea)). Each subsequent chapter will be the same as the previous one, but with the corrections applied. So they won't be quite the same. Clear?

5. Later chapters will probably require more suggestions and ideas than corrections.

**What happens if we lose? **Big deal, you're saying, who cares if this story never gets fixed? Okay, I'll lay it out for you – if I win, I will be everywhere, writing up manuals and instructions and directions that will have you pulling out your hair and assembling your furniture backwards and upside down. Don't think this is just a story, people. What we're dealing with here is my ability to convey information in an understandable and compelling manner. The English language and the plausible configuration of fictional events are both at stake. I'm counting on you. Don't let me down.

**Please Note**: If you think this chapter is perfectly fine as it now stands, slowly take your fingers off the keyboard and observe. By the time it's all over and the dust has cleared, you should find that a re-read of Chapter 1 will cause you to inadvertently void the contents of your stomach; _do not be alarmed_ - this is a natural reaction prompted by your renewed sense of understanding. (You can thank everybody later.)

**Disclaimer: **S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. I am making no profit from this.

* * *

**Save the OC**

**Chapter 1**

Ages:

Darry – 24

Two-Bit – 21

Dally – 19

Soda – 17

Steve – 17

Johnny – 16

Pony Boy – 14

I was walking down the street in this place called Tulsa Oklahoma because that's where I got off the bus. It was where I was making my new start. I moved away from my home in new york city because my mom died from a drug overdose when I was 5 and my dad started beating me. He beat me all the time, but mostly when he was drunk? He got drunk all the time. Sometimes when he beat me he even things like his belt or a rolled up newspaper. That's why I was so tough. I was so tough that nobody could break through to my sensitive interior, because I had stopped trusting anyone a long time ago. I new I would never let anyone hrut me again.

Flashback

"Your a stupid hore Anddiey! Come over here so I can hit you again!"

"No! I hate you! I'm leaving!"

end flashback

i should tell you what my name is. My name is Laniamisafeighly Brown and I am 16 years lod. I know it's an original name, but that's because my mom made it up. She's Polish mixed with a little mexico and some native american, and my dad is Irish/English/Afghan/Chinese, so my mom made up a name that combines names from all of those countries. Loosely translated, it means "Beautifully Tragic Young Girl Who Will Overcome The Weight Of The World To Capture The Heart Of A Young Man Named After A Beverage". I had thought I figured it out one time, my name, but then Coffee started beating me and tried to rape me once, so I dumped him. Anyway, since my name is so long I usually go by a few different nicknames! Most of my friends just call me Anddiey. It sounds just like Andy, but is spelled differently

My hair is a shiny jet black and goes all the way down the middle of my back. I'm small, about 5 feet 2 inches, and very petite, but I'm tough because I learned karate from one of the gangs I was in in new york. My eyes are a combination of gray, blue, green, and gold all in a pattern, kind of like a beach ball. When I'm angry, though, they turn dark and scary, because I won't let anyone know what I'm thinking. I really am sensitive through and like things like sunsets. But mostly i like to gdrag race (**A/N** **I don't even no what that is lol**).

As I was walking, i noticed a blue mustang was pulling up beside me. I tried walking faster, but six kids wearing madras got out and surrounded me. One of them reached out to tough my heair. "Hey, grease. I think we should cut off all this long shiny hair?" "don't you ever touch me!" I screamed furiously (sp?), and I grabbed his wrist and twisted it so he landed the sidewalk hard. Two of the other guys and one bitchy looking girl wearing low rise boot cut jeans and a camo tank top came after me. I kicked one of them in the head and broke a coule ribs on another one but they kept comimg and had me down in a second. "your gonna pay for this bitch!" One of them screamed, and they all started punching and kicking me. I was pretty close to blacking out, but they kept kicking me in the ribs and in the head and face and on the back! I felt a sharp pain in my arm and heard a crack and screamed, but they dept hitting me. One of them took out a knife and cut my arm.

"Hey get away from her you soc jerks!" Somebody screamed angrily, and everybody started runnin all at once. I didn't no what was going on. all of a sudden somebody was next to me with their strong protectice arms around me helping me to sit up. "Don't move too much." He said.

OMG, I looked up into the most beautiful face I had ever seen. He looked like a movie star or a greek god on earth. He had wheat gold hair that was long and silky and greased back. We looked deeply into each other's eyes. I could tell that he really liked me, but I didn't want him to know that I liked him too. "Hahaha, Soda's got a girlfriend!" somebody said.

I looked up to see a guy with a leather jacket and rust colored sideburns laughing at us. The one he called Soda blushed and grinned at me again. "That's two bit, he said, pointing happily. "His real name is Keith, but he always has to get his two bits in (**A/N idk what that means either!**). and that one is Steve" He pointed to a guy with dark hair that had complicated swirls in it and an angry look on his face. "And the one over there with the white blond hair is Dally, don't mess with him," he said laughing recklessly. "And the quiet one is Johnny." I smiled and waved and he blushed and smiled at me. He was cute, like a puppy and he seemed, shy and maybe like he was kind of scared of me. "The big guy is my brother Daryl but you can call him Darry, and the one next to him is my other brother Ponyboy."

I wanted to keep sitting there with Soda but, they were all standing there smiling at us, so I got up and shook all their hands. "You can call me Anddiey"

I told them.

"Hi Anddiey its nice to meet you" They all said.

**Soda's POV**

I couldn't take my eyes offa' her. She was jus' beautiful. And she had the prettiest eyes, with all of my favorite colors in 'em. But they had somethin' else in 'em to, like she had gotten hurt by somebody but was tryin' to cover it up by actin' tough. I could tell she was tough, too, based on how those socs looked when they was runnin' away. Two of 'em were bleedin' and one of 'em was holdin' his side and cryin'. "You gotta place to stay?" I asked her worriedly.

"No I just got into town." Anddiey looked down at the ground. "I was just goin' to hang out in that vacant lot over there until I find a better place to stay."

I shook my head forcefully. "No! you shouldn't be stayin' outside. You can come an' stay at our house for a while. We'll fix ya up! Right dar?"

"Yeah." Darry said. "I have first aid"

Anddiey blushed happily and looked away. "I guess I can. But nobody better touch me" She said jokingly. We all laughed.

**Two-Bit's POV**

Usually I went for blonds, but Anddiey was really cute. I could see that she really liked Soda too, and I was glad because he still wasn't over that bitch sandy. He deserved better than that. "You do;n't wanna be touched, better stay away from Soda" I said jokingly. Everybody laughed.

**Steve's POV**

I couldn't believe how tough and beautiful Anddiey was. She looked familiar, too. I thought about my sister that noe of the gang new about who my parents gave up for adoption when she was three because they couldn't afford to take care of two of us. I shook the thought away, that was stupid, my sister had supposedly gone to live with soc parents in new york city and didn't want nothin' to do with us greasers. That was why I never told anybody about her.

**Dally's POV**

I wished I had been the first one to get to Anddiey, because she was really hot and I could have had a chance with her. I felt really bad that she had gotten beat up, because I could see in her eyes that she was a sweet girl who had just been hurt by too many people. I knew what that was like. Anddiey was just like me.

**Johnny's POV**

I took off my jean jacket and put it over Anddiey's shoulders. She smiled up at me and I felt myself blush. She seemed like a really nice girl. I felt myself thinking that she was also the most beautiful girls I had ever seen in my whole life. I felt myself get angry at the socs who beat her up. I felt myself know just what she felt like. Anddiey was just like me.

**Pony Boy's POV**

I drew in a breath, then let it out. I drew in another breath, and let that one out. Then I drew in a…

**Darry's POV**

The girl in front of me was just beautiful, with the most amazing eyes I had ever seen and this long silky dark hair that made me think of Steve's hair. I could see in her eyes, though, that she had been hurt by somebony. Hurt real bad. I wanted to wrap myself around her and protect her from the bastard who had gurt her. I almost couldn't stop looking at her. The only thing distracting me was Ponyboy's incessant breathing. I slapped him across the face. "Dammit, Pony, use your head! This girl is hurt!"

I bent over and scooped Anddiey up and carried her to our house, where I put her on the couch and started checking her all over for cuts and bruises. "Get me the bandages!" I yelled at Ponyboy.

**Anddiey's POV**

The gang was so nice. I laid on the couch and let Darry fix me up, even when he had to lift up my shirt once and I felt myself blush. "Better not peek!" Two-bit yelled from across the room. Everybody laughed when I picked up the TV remote and threw it at him.

Darry said I had three broken ribs and a busted spleen, but i would be okay if i dlept on the couch for a while. Soda kept coming over to check on me, and them hm and Steve started wresting whil Ponyboy sat down and read a book and Darry made dinner for all of us. Dally was sititng in the corner brooding, but every so often I could see him kind of look over like he wanted to make sure I was okay. And Johnny and Two bit put on Mickey mouse and watched TV until dinner was ready. I kept hoping that Soda would come over and kiss me, because that was what the feeling I got from him when we were sitting together outside. I hoped we would have time alone together later. Even though he acted really happy I could tell somebody had hurt him real bad. And I new I could make him feel better.

It was only my first day in Tulsa, but I could tell that things were going to work out ok.

* * *

tosses story into the shark tank and steps aside 

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

I forgot my **dedication** last time: This goes out to everybody who read my first chapter and said, "Hey, this is plagiarism! It sounds just like my story…" I'm putting myself in the line of fire here for you, guys. Read my reviews, apply them to your story, and make me glad I took that bullet!

So wow, lots of suggestions for Chapter 1. What I'm doing is separating them into**two sets** to be used for this chapter and the next, and then we'll go from there. So if you think of anything that could be used right now, go ahead and toss your ideas into the pot. Otherwise, feel free to wait until the next chapter is posted, because that one will have quite a few more drastic changes.

These are the ones the dog liked the best for this round:

Capitalize proper nouns. (Keira)

Don't list ages at the beginning of the story. (Marauder and the Q)

Remove POV tags. (mars on fire)

Remove author notes. (Jules)

Comma between city and state. (Theatrical Llama)

Fix punctuation around quotation marks. (xodamhsoirxo)

Fix the spelling. (AllzStar)

Use spell checker, and fix grammar. (Another Illusion)

Leave out the netspeak and just spell it out. (Tensleep)

Okay then, since some of these can be lumped together, here's the breakdown of corrections, along with the reasons I _suspect_ they were suggested:

1. We'll call spelling, punctuation, and grammar one entity.  
_Why correct them? _I want make it as **easy as possible** for my readers to understand what I'm trying to tell them. I don't want them having to backtrack to try and figure out what I might have meant. Included in this section are net speak (OMG! WTF?) and other abbreviations, as well as exclamation point overkill. Seriously! People don't get that excited! Not all at once! It makes the reader afraid! Very afraid! One or two sprinkled here and there are enough to get the feel of the moment across, but it's better to use stronger verbs and some adjectives that convey a feeling of fear, excitement, or astonishment.

2. Remove age list.  
_Why?_ Everything about the characters should be found within the story. A list at the beginning is **tedious for the reader** and requires them to memorize facts before they even start reading. This makes them not want to read my story, which goes against what I want.

3. Remove POV tags.  
_Why?_ They are**distracting and jarring** when clumped together every other paragraph. Let the reader stay inside the head of the character you want them to get to know. And because this is written in first-person POV, it is even harder to drift to somebody else's head without confusing the reader. Therefore, all other points of view will be removed.

4. Remove author notes.  
_Why?_ They remind the reader that this is just a story and remove any tension from it. **I, as the author, should be invisible to my readers**.

5. Get rid of the stupid name.  
_Why?_ Not only is it difficult to pronounce and out-of-place, but it is **distracting**. Once again, I don't want my readers doing any work, or they might remember that I'm lurking out there somewhere.

**Disclaimer: **S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. I am making no profit from this.

* * *

** Save the OC**

**Chapter 2**

I was walking down the street in this place called Tulsa, Oklahoma, because that's where I got off the bus. It was where I was making my new start. I moved away from my home in New York City because my mom died from a drug overdose when I was 5 and my dad started beating me. He beat me all the time, but mostly when he was drunk. He got drunk all the time. Sometimes when he beat me he even used things like his belt or a rolled up newspaper. That's why I was so tough. I was so tough that nobody could break through to my sensitive interior, because I had stopped trusting anyone a long time ago. I knew I would never let anyone hurt me again.

_Flashback_

_"You're a stupid whore, Linda! Come over here so I can hit you again!"_

_"No! I hate you! I'm leaving!"_

_End flashback_

I should tell you what my name is. My name is Linda Brown, and I am 16 years old. I know it's just a normal old name, but it's all mine.

My hair is a shiny jet black and goes all the way down the middle of my back. I'm small, about 5 feet 2 inches, and very petite, but I'm tough because I learned karate from one of the gangs I was in, back in New York. My eyes are a combination of gray, blue, green, and gold all in a pattern, kind of like a beach ball. When I'm angry, though, they turn dark and scary, because I won't let anyone know what I'm thinking. I really am sensitive, though, and like things like sunsets. But mostly I like to drag race.

As I was walking, I noticed a blue mustang was pulling up beside me. I tried walking faster, but six kids wearing madras got out and surrounded me. One of them reached out to touch my hair. "Hey, grease. I think we should cut off all this long shiny hair." "Don't you ever touch me!" I screamed furiously, and I grabbed his wrist and twisted it so he landed the sidewalk hard. Two of the other guys and one bitchy looking girl wearing low rise boot cut jeans and a camo tank top came after me. I kicked one of them in the head and broke a couple ribs on another one, but they kept coming and had me down in a second. "You're gonna pay for this, bitch!" one of them screamed, and they all started punching and kicking me. I was pretty close to blacking out, but they kept kicking me in the ribs and in the head and face and on the back. I felt a sharp pain in my arm and heard a crack and screamed, but they kept hitting me. One of them took out a knife and cut my arm.

"Hey, get away from her, you Soc jerks!" somebody screamed angrily, and everybody started running all at once. I didn't know what was going on. All of a sudden somebody was next to me with their strong protective arms around me helping me to sit up. "Don't move too much," he said.

Oh my God, I looked up into the most beautiful face I had ever seen. He looked like a movie star or a Greek god on earth. He had wheat gold hair that was long and silky and greased back. We looked deeply into each other's eyes. I could tell that he really liked me, but I didn't want him to know that I liked him, too. "Hahaha, Soda's got a girlfriend!" somebody said.

I looked up to see a guy with a leather jacket and rust colored sideburns laughing at us. The one he called Soda blushed and grinned at me again. "That's Two-Bit," he said, pointing happily. "His real name is Keith, but he always has to get his two bits in. And that one is Steve." He pointed to a guy with dark hair that had complicated swirls in it and an angry look on his face. "And the one over there with the white blond hair is Dally, don't mess with him," he said laughing recklessly. "And the quiet one is Johnny." I smiled and waved and he blushed and smiled at me. He was cute, like a puppy, and he seemed shy and maybe like he was kind of scared of me. "The big guy is my brother Daryl, but you can call him Darry, and the one next to him is my other brother Ponyboy."

I wanted to keep sitting there with Soda, but they were all standing there smiling at us, so I got up and shook all their hands. "My name is Linda," I told them.

"Hi Linda, it's nice to meet you," they all said.

Soda gave me a reassuring pat on the back. "You gotta place to stay?" he asked me worriedly.

"No, I just got into town." I looked down at the ground. "I was just goin' to hang out in that vacant lot over there until I find a better place to stay."

He shook his head forcefully. "No, you shouldn't be stayin' outside. You can come an' stay at our house for a while. We'll fix ya up. Right, Dar?"

"Yeah," Darry said. "I have a first aid kit."

I blushed happily and looked away. "I guess I can. But nobody better touch me," I said jokingly. We all laughed.

"You don't wanna be touched, better stay away from Soda," Two-Bit said jokingly. Everybody laughed again.

Johnny took off his jean jacket and put it over my shoulders. I smiled up at him and he blushed.

Darry, the bigger brother, slapped the younger one across the face. "Dammit, Pony, use your head! This girl is hurt!" He bent over, scooped me up, and carried me to their house, where he put me on the couch and started checking me all over for cuts and bruises. "Get me the bandages!" he yelled at Ponyboy.

The gang was so nice. I laid on the couch and let Darry fix me up, even when he had to lift up my shirt once and I felt myself blush. "Better not peek!" Two-bit yelled from across the room. Everybody laughed when I picked up the TV remote and threw it at him.

Darry said I had three broken ribs and a busted spleen, but I would be okay if I slept on the couch for a while. Soda kept coming over to check on me, and them him and Steve started wresting while Ponyboy sat down and read a book and Darry made dinner for all of us. Dally was sitting in the corner brooding, but every so often I could see him kind of look over like he wanted to make sure I was okay. And Johnny and Two bit put on Mickey Mouse and watched TV until dinner was ready. I kept hoping that Soda would come over and kiss me, because that was what the feeling was that I got from him when we were sitting together outside. I hoped we would have time alone together later. Even though he acted really happy, I could tell somebody had hurt him real bad. And I knew I could make him feel better.

It was only my first day in Tulsa, but I could tell that things were going to work out okay.

* * *

Next chapter will be up soon. 


	3. Chapter 3

To reiterate: I'm not making fun of anybody here. OR, more accurately, I'm poking a little fun at all of us, with the exception of those who never in their writing career committed any of the sins that are contained in Chapter 1 :).

Wow, you guys really tore this thing apart! Thanks very much for your thoughtful suggestions. Okay, now that she's finished obsessing over the cat and can focus on the task at hand, the dog feels that rather than list all of the changes, I should just insert them in bold next to what they apply to in the story, with the relevant section bracketed. (NOTE: Been wasting time here for a while now, and ffnet likes to do funny things to amuse itself, like remove all of the closing brackets for no apparent reason; so my apologies, but I've got two little ones with croup and can't fiddle with this thing any longer; so, there are only opening brackets). Some of the suggestions will be paraphrased, as they were suggested by more than one reviewer. The corrected chapter will be at the end.

**Save the OC**

**Chapter 2 with required edits in bold**

I was walking down the street in this place called Tulsa, Oklahoma, because that's where I got off the bus. It was where I was making my new start. [I moved away from my home in New York City because my mom died from a drug overdose when I was [5 **spell out numbers** and my dad started beating me. He beat me all the time, but mostly when he was drunk. He got drunk all the time. Sometimes when he beat me, he even used things like his belt or a rolled up newspaper. **Remove****overly-tragic past** [That's why I was so tough. I was so tough that nobody could break through to my sensitive interior, because I had stopped trusting anyone a long time ago. I knew I would never let anyone hurt me again.

_[Flashback_

_"You're a stupid whore, Linda! Come over here so I can hit you again!"_

_"No! I hate you! I'm leaving!"_

_End flashback_**Get rid of flashback; if flashback is used, don't tag it with "flashback" and "end flashback", and provide more detail.**

I should tell you what my name is. My name is Linda Brown, and I am 16 years old. I know it's just a normal old name, but it's all mine.

[My hair is a shiny jet black and goes all the way down the middle of my back. I'm small, about 5 feet 2 inches, and very petite, but I'm tough because I learned karate from one of the gangs I was in, back in New York. [My eyes are a combination of gray, blue, green, and gold all in a pattern, kind of like a beach ball **get rid of the unusual eye color/pattern**. [When I'm angry, though, they turn dark and scary **doesn't happen in real life (unless The X Files is real …), so ditch the color-changing eyes**, because I won't let anyone know what I'm thinking. I really am sensitive, though, and like things like sunsets. But mostly I like to drag race. **Don't spend a paragraph right at the beginning of the story describing the character; disperse relevant descriptions throughout the story.**

As I was walking, I noticed [a blue mustang **pick a different car, everybody uses blue mustangs** was pulling up beside me. I tried walking faster, but [six kids wearing madras got out and surrounded me. One of them reached out to touch my hair. "Hey, grease. I think we should cut off all this long shiny hair." "Don't you ever touch me!" I screamed furiously, and I grabbed his wrist and twisted it so he landed the sidewalk hard. Two of the other guys and one bitchy looking girl wearing low rise boot cut jeans and a camo tank top came after me. I kicked one of them in the head and broke a couple ribs on another one, but they kept coming and had me down in a second. "You're gonna pay for this, bitch!" one of them screamed, and they all started punching and kicking me. I was pretty close to blacking out, but they kept kicking me in the ribs and in the head and face and on the back. I felt a sharp pain in my arm and heard a crack and screamed, but they kept hitting me. One of them took out a knife and cut my arm. **Dump the jump (I love when edits rhyme, heheh).**

"Hey, get away from her, you Soc jerks!" somebody screamed angrily, and everybody started running all at once. I didn't know what was going on. All of a sudden somebody was next to me with their strong protective arms around me helping me to sit up. "Don't move too much," he said.

Oh my God, I looked up into the most beautiful face I had ever seen. He looked like a movie star or a Greek god on earth. He had wheat gold hair that was long and silky and greased back. We looked deeply into each other's eyes. I could tell that he really liked me, but I didn't want him to know that I liked him, too. ["Hahaha, Soda's got a girlfriend!" somebody said. **Separate new characters' dialogue/actions into a new paragraph.**

[I looked up to see a guy with a leather jacket and rust colored sideburns laughing at us. The one he called Soda blushed and grinned at me again. "That's Two-Bit," he said, pointing happily. "His real name is Keith, but he always has to get his two bits in. And that one is Steve." He pointed to a guy with dark hair that had complicated swirls in it and an angry look on his face. "And the one over there with the white blond hair is Dally, don't mess with him," he said laughing recklessly. "And the quiet one is Johnny." I smiled and waved and he blushed and smiled at me. He was cute, like a puppy, and he seemed shy and maybe like he was kind of scared of me. "The big guy is my brother [Daryl **spell the characters' names correctly**, but you can call him Darry, and the one next to him is my other brother Ponyboy." **Don't have her meet the entire gang at once, as if they are constantly with each other and only with each other.**

I wanted to keep sitting there with Soda, but they were all standing there smiling at us, so I got up and shook all their hands. "My name is Linda," I told them.

"Hi Linda, it's nice to meet you," they all said.

Soda gave me a reassuring pat on the back. "You gotta place to stay?" he asked me worriedly.

"No, I just got into town." I looked down at the ground. "I was just goin' to hang out in that vacant lot over there until I find a better place to stay."

[He shook his head forcefully. "No, you shouldn't be stayin' outside. You can come an' stay at our house for a while. We'll fix ya up. Right, Dar?" **Don't have the Curtises invite her to stay with them.**

"Yeah," Darry said. "I have a first aid kit."

I blushed happily and looked away. ["I guess I can. **Okay, so just **_**possibly**_** she won't want to go stay on these guys' couch and get "examined" after she just met them after just getting attacked**. But nobody better touch me," I said jokingly. We all laughed.

"You don't wanna be touched, better stay away from Soda," Two-Bit said jokingly. Everybody laughed again.

Johnny took off his jean jacket and put it over my shoulders. I smiled up at him and he blushed.

[Darry, the bigger brother, slapped the younger one across the face. "Dammit, Pony, use your head! This girl is hurt!" He bent over, scooped me up, and carried me to their house, where he put me on the couch and started checking me all over for cuts and bruises. "Get me the bandages!" he yelled at Ponyboy. **Don't have Darry being mean to Ponyboy for no apparent reason.**

The gang was so nice. I laid on the couch and let Darry fix me up, even when he had to lift up my shirt once and I felt myself blush. "Better not peek!" Two-bit yelled from across the room. [Everybody laughed when I picked up the TV remote and threw it at him. **Get rid of the anachronism – there were no TV remotes in the 1960's.**

[Darry said I had three broken ribs and a busted spleen, but I would be okay if I slept on the couch for a while. **She would need medical attention for these kinds of injuries (which, now that I think about it, Darry would not have been able to diagnose without some sort of imaging equipment).** Soda kept coming over to check on me, and them him and Steve started wresting while Ponyboy sat down and read a book and Darry made dinner for all of us. Dally was sitting in the corner brooding, but every so often I could see him kind of look over like he wanted to make sure I was okay. And Johnny and Two bit put on Mickey Mouse and watched TV until dinner was ready. I kept hoping that Soda would come over and kiss me, because that was what the feeling was that I got from him when we were sitting together outside. I hoped we would have time alone together later. Even though he acted really happy, I could tell somebody had hurt him real bad. And I knew I could make him feel better.

It was only my first day in Tulsa, but I could tell that things were going to work out okay.

* * *

Okay, I think I got everything! So after deleting and/or correcting all of the above issues, here's **Chapter 3**: 

I was walking down the street in this place called Tulsa, Oklahoma, because that's where I got off the bus. It was where I was making my new start.

I should tell you what my name is. My name is Linda Brown, and I am sixteen years old. I know it's just a normal old name, but it's all mine.

"Hey, get away from her, you Soc jerks!" somebody **(wait a minute – she didn't get jumped, so she hasn't met Soda …)**

It was only my first day in Tulsa, but I could tell that things were going to work out okay.

* * *

Um…okay, so now I've got a problem – my story is only 80 words long. I've got a girl with a normal name whom I would like to have interact with one of the greasers, but she can't get jumped and subsequently rescued in the first chapter, and the readers won't feel bad for her if she hasn't been really hurt by somebody in her past – will they? 

I mean, I felt bad for Ponyboy in the first chapter of The Outsiders, and he got jumped, and the gang all came and saved him. Right? So I figured, that should be the perfect way to get my character in there with all of these characters that I love so much. And they're nice guys at heart, so they will feel extra sorry for her if she's had a bad life. Won't they?

But how does that happen if she can't get hurt by somebody and her home life is nice and comfortable? What makes her interesting? What makes the first chapter compelling? And how do I get the readers to love her as much as I think the Outsiders characters would love her (i.e. how do I keep her from being a Mary Sue)? Aahhh!

I need background for her. I need a reason for her to be here. I need a plausible situation that will put her in contact with one of the greasers.

I need help!

If not for me … do it for Linda, man. Do it for Linda!


	4. Chapter 4

The dog and I had a lengthy discussion about this over the weekend and we came up with a list of the reviewer suggestions that, combined, we liked the best to develop the character of Linda Brown:

1. She doesn't have to be a visitor from out of town.

2. She doesn't have to have a bad home life.

3. It might be fun to have her interested in somebody who doesn't get as much attention in fanfics.

4. She doesn't have to be beautiful.

5. Dogs make great conversation starters (the dog was all over this one).

6. We could get more tension from the situation if the object of her desire doesn't feel the same way about her. And that's good, because _tension makes readers turn the page_.

7. Not everybody sees all of the canon characters the same way Ponyboy did.

Other suggestions we liked, but passed on, and why:

1. Keep the POV from one of the canon characters – Excellent idea, but for this story I'm really trying to figure out what makes an OC interesting when you're writing from his or her perspective, and how to avoid doing the things that make people want to exact a slow painful death on the poor unsuspecting OC.

2. Have the character visiting a relative to give her a solid reason for being in Tulsa – I loved this idea, but I loved the "she's always lived here" idea equally, and I had to choose one of them. My plot seems to be developing (woohoo! a plot is developing!) around the idea of Linda already knowing one of the canon characters.

3. She doesn't get much attention or affection from her family – I thought this was realistic, especially if she were to be one of the youngest of a large family, but wanted to first try giving her such a normal home life, she could almost be boring. In other words, is it possible to create reader interest in a boring person?

**Disclaimer**: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. I am making no profit from this story.

* * *

** Save the OC**

**Chapter 4**

Did you ever realize, say, halfway through a random walk, where you honestly thought you were just getting the dog out for some exercise, that some unknown segment of your brain had other intentions that it didn't bother to let you in on until it was too late to turn back?

I held my knee-length wool coat closed a little tighter against the late-November wind, but it didn't do much for the cold air against my legs. Leaves whipped past me, and the low-hanging ceiling of clouds spit a few chilly drops at me, but I took in a deep breath and smiled. Winter was fun, spring was pretty, and summer was relaxing; but fall – that was the season I was born for.

Sometimes I wondered if I only liked Thanksgiving because it fell within the most perfect part of autumn, when hot dinners and crackling fires made my insides swell with an anticipation of something I hadn't yet figured out. On Thanksgiving, I could put up with Mom and Aunt Sally bickering about the stuffing, and Grandpa going on for an hour about Kennedy being assassinated by his own bodyguards, and Uncle George smelling the place up with his cigars, and even Aunt Millicent telling Mom what a shame it was that I couldn't find myself a good man. All of that, I could deal with.

Any other time of the year, those things would probably have driven me insane when packed together into one crowded day. But in the fall, none of those was enough reason to drive me out of the house. It wasn't because the dog needed a walk, either. "Mocha, slow down."

I had left the house shortly after Mary arrived.

Mocha pulled forward with increased fervor, zigzagging me along the sidewalk. You would have thought she was hot on the trail of some fantastic prize, or that she was on a mission to hunt down and apprehend our dinner. Maybe that's what she actually believed. Or maybe, I figured, she was doing as much pretending as I was, imagining herself in a world where she was so good at what she was born to do, somebody needed her more than any other dog in the universe.

Another gust of wind pulled at the flaps of my coat, bringing with it the sweet smell of cut wood before I registered the sound of jagged metal raking across lumber. Mocha's little beagle tail began wagging furiously, even before her nose left the ground. I looked up to see what had gotten her attention.

_Oh, God_. What are we doing here? How did I not notice that we were walking this way?

And what were the odds that he would be outside, hammering and sawing and looking up to see who was walking toward him?

"Hi," he said.

I smiled as if I hadn't just figured out that a part of me had known all along where I was headed, and like I found it utterly surprising that I had ended up in front of his house. "Oh! Wow, hi!"

By the look on his face, I realized that he hadn't actually recognized me. He was just being polite. "Hi," he repeated.

_He's wondering why on earth this girl with the wind-ragged hair has stopped at his front gate_. An almost painful wave of nostalgia passed over me at the sight of him – beautiful, strong, perfect him. Mocha gave an impatient tug, so I let go of her leash and she trotted into the yard. "Mary," I said, and could have kicked myself. "Mary's sister, I mean. Linda. You went out with her, in high school. Mary, that is, not Linda. Not me." No, you definitely didn't go out with me. But you were sweet and kind and beautiful, and every night, my dreams had you carrying me off to a place where I was somebody other than Mary's Sister.

"I thought I recognized you," he said with a smile in his voice, and my heart nearly skipped a beat as a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

And then I realized that he was down on one knee petting the dog. He recognized Mocha. I shook off the pang of jealousy that struck upon watching Darry run his weathered hands over Mocha's wiggling body. God, what I would have given to switch places with her right then.

Darry stood up and leaned his saw against the porch railing. "It's been a long time."

"Yes, it has." I nodded. "Yep. Long time." _Wonderful_. For almost five years I had fantasized about the day I would run into him in the grocery store, or at the post office, or at the bank, or, what the heck, right in his front yard on Thanksgiving day while he was replacing his porch steps and I just happened to be walking by with the dog … and all I could think to say was _yes, it has_. We stood smiling at each other and watching Mocha sniff around the yard and…

"Oh, no! Mocha! I am so sorry." I watched in horror as my dog arched her back and emptied her last meal in a neat pile on Darry's front lawn. "I am so sorry."

Darry looked less than impressed, but gave his head a shake. "It's alright, don't worry about it."

"If you have a little trash bag or something, I'll clean that up."

"No, you don't need to do that. It's fine."

"No, really. I wouldn't want anybody stepping in it. I insist."

Darry gave a sigh before hopping over the gaping hole where the bottom step had been removed and disappearing into the house.

I glared at Mocha, who sat in front of me wagging her tail like this was all some grand joke. "Thanks a lot," I whispered. "See if you get any turkey in your Alpo tonight."

"Will this work?" Darry hopped back down the steps and handed me a small trash bag, the kind Mom used to collect the kitchen scraps in the sink.

"Perfect!" I pulled the bag over my hand, squatted down, and died a little inside while Darry watched me pick up my dog's poop. "Where should I…"

"Trash can's out back by the alley." He pointed next to the porch. "Just toss it over there, I'll get it later."

I took a step forward and tossed the bag in the general direction he was pointing.

"So," he said, "are you still in school?"

"No! I mean, no. No, I graduated this year. I'm working at Sears." I pointed behind me, as if the Sears were right there up the road, and then realized I wasn't even pointing in the right direction.

"Oh yeah?" He picked up a couple of boards and stood them against the porch.

_Say something interesting_. "I get a discount." _Brilliant_. You're a genius, Linda. _I get a discount_. Couldn't I have managed something a bit more relevant? I made an attempt at a casual laugh, like Mary did when she was talking to somebody and there just weren't any words. Something occurred to me then. "So, you know, if you ever need anything, just stop by my register."

He gave me a skeptical look. "Aren't the discounts for employees and their families?"

Good job, Linda, now he thinks you're a dishonest discount-thief. "Oh! Well, sure. But I mean, we all do it. Give discounts, I mean. To people we know." I glanced at the weathered house that stood in front of me. "Not that you would need a discount. I mean, it's just ten percent, but every little bit helps, right?" _Especially when you're living in squalor_, he probably figured I was thinking. Oh God, just let me die right here.

When Darry stepped forward to pick up a hammer, my gaze lingered momentarily on his faded blue jeans and the tool belt that was loosely draped around his waist. The sleeves of his flannel shirt were rolled up just enough to expose the hairs on his muscled forearm. He was still strong and perfect, and he wasn't eighteen anymore. My mouth dried up in one fell swoop; I took in a sharp breath and blinked. "What?"

Darry paused for an instant. "I said, how's Mary doing? How's your sister?"

"Mary? Oh, you know, she's,"_fat_, I wanted to say, _she's a frumpy boring housewife, all fattened up and tied down and nothing like the girl you used to kiss goodnight on our front porch while I watched from the hall window_; but it wasn't true, and the words wouldn't come. "She's good. Expecting in a few months."

Even pregnant, Mary somehow managed to not be awkward or ugly. She wasn't beautiful, and never had been, but she had the grace of a swan and a personality that make her seem like the last living woman on an island full of men. Marilyn Monroe could have been standing right next to her, and the boys would have looked right past her to Mary. Mary knew how to use her eyes, her body, and her smile to make them see a beauty that I could just never find in myself. It was hard to believe we were even related, much less had grown within the same woman. The worst thing was, it was like she had no idea what a special gift she had, or that it was something that most of us weren't fortunate enough to be born with.

"So she and Peter got married?"

"Yes, a few months after graduation. Just celebrated their four-year anniversary." Peter was rich, from one of the oil families, and Mary had dropped Darry like a hot potato when she found out that Peter was eying her up. He was two years older than her.

I waited for some glimmer of sadness in Darry's face, something that I could help him get past by being the person he would realize he _really_ needed, but there was only a vague interest. "Good for her. Tell her I said congratulations." He gave a polite smile and a nod, and glanced toward the partially-cut lumber that was laid out across the dormant grass.

I realized then that he was dismissing me. He needed to get back to work. I would walk away with my dog and spend the next four or five or twenty years looking back on that moment and wishing I had said something more, like _what have you been up to_, or _how's life been treating you_, or, I don't know, maybe something along the lines of _I have been in love with you since I was thirteen years old and you patted my shoulder gave me a smile and thanked me for bringing you an iced tea when you were helping Dad fix our leaky roof_. Darry was one of Mary's only boyfriends that Dad had actually liked. "That boy's going somewhere," he would say. "He'll make his way in this world, come hell or high water."

I couldn't leave yet.

"So," I said and, remembering how Mary used her body to say things that went beyond words, set my left hand on my hip and leaned my right hand on the old wooden sawhorse that was standing next to me, "what have you been -"

With a creak and a crash, the sawhorse tipped sideways, dumped a box of nails onto the ground, and landed like a startled turtle with me sprawled out next to it. I instinctively wrapped my left hand around my right palm. "Ow! Oh my gosh, I am so sorry." Assuming that I had gotten down onto the ground to play with her, Mocha rushed over, jumped in my lap, and set a chewed up piece of wood into my hand. "What is this thing?"

Darry, who had made a grab for the sawhorse structure and only managed to get a hold of one of the boards that had been laid across it, tossed the board onto the ground and came over to squat down next to me. "Well, it _was_ one of the shims I was using for distancing the boards on the steps."

I had no idea what a shim was, but now it was just a chewed-up scrap of wood. "Oh. I'm sorry." I glared at Mocha again. Her tail tapped against my leg, and she smiled at me.

"Forget it, I can make another one. Are you alright? I knew I should have put a couple more clamps on there." He wrapped his hand around my arm and helped me up, spilling Mocha off of my lap onto the ground and not bothering to say out loud what was written all over his face – when is this girl going to leave and let me get on with my work?

Because right then, I was a girl. Not a woman. Not even a young woman. I wasn't eighteen anymore, and I wasn't the confident picture of female strength I tried to imagine myself as every morning when I got out of bed to get ready for work. I was thirteen and gangly and in the way, and there was absolutely nothing about me that somebody like Darry Curtis would ever find attractive. He was strong and perfect and always had the exact right words to say; I was clumsy and didn't know how to start a conversation with a man without making it clear to him how inept I was at trying to start a conversation with a man.

"Is your hand okay?"

I let go of my hand and looked at it. "No, it's fine. Just a few splinters." It looked like I had gotten into a fight with one of the talking trees from The Wizard of Oz. My hand was throbbing and stinging like crazy.

"Doesn't look fine from here." Darry took my wrist and got a closer look at my hand. "I've got some tweezers inside. I can get some of the bigger ones out, but you'll probably have to soak it when you get home to get the rest out."

My throat felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. Tweezers? _Inside_? I nodded and worked to slow my racing heart, or at least not let my face give it away. "Okay."

Darry held my arm to help me across the missing step, and Mocha followed us up the porch and through the front door. I reached down and unsnapped her leash. The smell of roasting turkey gave the place a warm and homey feel. "How's the bird?" Darry asked.

Somebody on the couch cleared their throat. "Still dead, no complaints."

Darry nodded toward the voice. "My brother, Ponyboy. Pone, this is Mary Brown's sister…" He paused and looked back at me.

"Linda," I said. Oh God, he didn't even remember my name that I just reminded him of not ten minutes earlier.

"Soda's out," he said.

For some reason, I interpreted that as,_we're out of Soda_. "That's alright, I usually drink water or milk." It wasn't until I saw the looks on their faces – that look that people give you when they are trying to think of a tactful way to tell you that you're an idiot – that I realized my mistake. How could I have been so stupid? He was talking about his other brother. He had been a year ahead of me in school. To be honest, I was glad he wasn't home. Sodapop had this wild side to him that made me uncomfortable. He had been popular in school, but not like Darry. Darry was polite and friendly and sweet. Soda was just … wild.

Before I could make any attempt to explain away my comment, Darry had disappeared around the corner into a hallway.

Ponyboy sat up, spilling a pile of damp tissues onto the floor. He gave me a little wave. "I wouldn't come any closer," he advised in a croaky voice. "Flu."

"Sit down," Darry called in.

Mocha, having greeted Ponyboy with exuberance, was moving on to sniff every possible object in the room. "Cute dog," he said.

"Thanks." I stepped crossed the room to sit in an old brown armchair that looked very much like the green plaid Montgomery Ward one we had at home. "I think we have this same chair at my house." Like anyone cared what kind of furniture we had at my house.

Darry came back into the room with a kitchen chair and a pair of tweezers. He set the chair in front of me and reached over me to turn on the floor lamp, then sat down and took my hand in his.

Despite the burning pain on my palm, the hair on the back of my neck tingled as I watched him lean forward and turn my hand this way and that to remove the largest splinters. His hands were large and warm and steady, and I was suddenly wishing that I had put on some nail polish, or at least that I hadn't chewed three fingernails down to the quick. Darry smelled like coffee and fresh-cut wood and sweat, but it wasn't a bad sweaty smell like in a locker room. It was that _this is who I am_ smell that stays on somebody's shirt so that if you press it against your face when they are gone, you can take yourself right back to when they were sitting next to you. While the clock on the mantle ticked away the minutes, I sat there watching Darry's hands and arms and shoulders and eyes, feeling his warm breath on my fingers, and breathing in his scent, until it was all I could do to fight back the longing ache that had been buried inside of me for years.

The front door opened with a clatter, letting in a crisp breeze. "Sorry I'm late."

Darry glanced over his shoulder at the woman who had closed the door behind her and come all the way into the living room. "It's alright. Turkey won't be done for another hour or so."

She held aside a bakery box and leaned down to give him a kiss on the cheek. "I brought dessert." Her fingernails, shaped into perfect ovals, were coated with a layer of soft pink polish.

Darry stopped picking at my hand long enough to introduce us. "Ellen, this is … Linda? Linda. I used to date her sister. Long time ago."

Ellen smiled at me. "Nice to meet you. Just stopped by for a visit?"

I didn't like the way she asked me that, though there hadn't been anything malicious in her tone. Maybe it was my own stupidity that was bouncing off of her and slapping me in the face. "I was walking the dog, and happened to be passing by…" _So I decided to make a complete fool of myself in front of the only man I have ever imagined myself marrying._ God, please let a meteor fall on this house right now.

"I was out working on the step," Darry said.

Ellen walked into the kitchen, returning a minute later to look over Darry's shoulder. "Yes, I saw you didn't finish out there, and now it's starting to rain. What happened? And did you put poor Linda to work?"

I smiled to be polite, though the lump in my throat was preventing anything from being funny. "I knocked over the sawhorse." She wasn't beautiful, but she was … grown up. She didn't look like a thirteen-year-old girl who was only pretending to be a grown woman because her body had made it to eighteen. She was in her early twenties, and she looked the part.

Ellen turned toward the couch. "Hi, sweetie, how are you feeling?"

Ponyboy gave a shrug. "Same." He picked up a nearly-empty glass from the coffee table and drank the rest of the orange juice from it.

Darry sat up straight and tossed the tweezers onto the phone table. "I think that's about all I can get for now, unless you're up for some surgery."

"No, that's fine." It didn't even occur to me that he had made a funny comment. All I could think was that I needed to get out of that house as fast as possible. "I really need to get going."

Ponyboy got up off the couch with his glass and walked past us toward the kitchen. "Nice meeting you," he said in a tired voice, but with a smile.

"Bye."

"You should come over for dinner sometime, do some more catching up," Ellen said, though I knew she didn't really mean it.

When Ponyboy spoke from the kitchen the next instant, it was in such a calm, reasonable tone, I had just about convinced myself that he had said something like, _the grass is green_, or _the sky is blue_. It took a second for my brain to process his actual words – "The dog is eating the pie."

I jumped up and was around the corner and into the kitchen in about a heartbeat. There, standing in the middle of the small kitchen table, was Mocha. Orange residue dripped from her jowls onto the pumpkin pie that sat beneath her. The entire middle of it had been eaten away. I gasped. Mocha looked up at me and wagged her tail.

"Bad dog!" I hurried forward and snatched her off the table. "I am so sorry." I was near tears. "I am so sorry." I didn't even know what else to say. Ellen looked horrified and disgusted. Ponyboy was wearing a dazed neutral expression that matched the tone his voice had held, and Darry had one hand partially covering his mouth.

Reprimanding Mocha the entire way to the door as her tail thumped against my side, I grabbed her leash and shot out of the house with Darry's attempt at reassuring words trailing me – _don't worry about it_ – and almost broke my leg because I forgot that the bottom step wasn't there. I dropped Mocha, hit the ground hard, and popped back up like I hadn't just knocked the wind out of myself. "I'm fine! I am so sorry about the pie."

The rain was coming down steadily, but I waved off Darry's offers of an umbrella, snapped Mocha's leash onto her collar, and hurried up the sidewalk, dragging her along behind me. I didn't stop until I was far enough away from my sister's ex-boyfriend's house that he wouldn't hear me sobbing into my nail-bitten hand.

Never again, I vowed. I will never go near his house again. I will live to be a lonely old spinster with twenty cats before I ever go near him again. And that night, for the first time in five years, I sank into bed without even a lingering hope that someday, Darry Curtis would need me more than any other girl in the universe.

* * *

As always, jump in and rip it apart. 


End file.
